


Breathe Easy

by amphib



Category: Dimension 20, The Unsleeping City
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drug Use, M/M, Substance Abuse, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 23:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amphib/pseuds/amphib
Summary: Pete reflects on his relationships: to himself, to Priya, to Ricky.





	Breathe Easy

**Author's Note:**

> it starts off angsty but i promise it gets better ok!!!! i just needed to project onto pete for a minute

When Pete was younger, when the hallucinations were just starting to get really bad, he tried to drown himself in the bathtub. 

He stared up at the ceiling, watching glittering stars chase each other all across his vision as he let out his breath. The stars looked at him, then, their eyes wide with shock. They came down and sat on the surface of the water like it was fluid glass, tapping it and making it ripple in front of Pete's eyes. He only realized he was still breathing when ten minutes passed and he wasn't dead.

That night, he checked himself into a mental ward.

Though he never felt comfortable swimming after that -- for a multitude of reasons -- he always thought about that moment. How breathing underwater, protected by the surface of the water, he'd felt more at home in that moment than he had at any other time. Watching stars fly by and flowers bloom and faces whisper to him in the pattern of his bathroom ceiling, the issues he had with his body and his family and his brain all floated away.

For those ten peaceful minutes, no one expected anything of him. He wasn't expected to be a pretty girl, or a helpful farm hand, or a good student, or mentally okay. No one needed _anything_ from him.

He chased that peace with drugs, finding himself sitting next to that same tub and staring up at that same ceiling with white powder on his nose or a needle in his arm or any number of other substances running through his body. No one expected shit from a junkie.

He got used to it. Being a nobody. Being a junkie shitbag who was expected to do what he already did. In New York, everyone cared about themselves, their own goals: he could slip in through the cracks and find a home there. He transitioned easily, like he'd been made for New York, like he was meant to be here.

Maybe that's why the whole Vox Phantasma thing kept rocking him to his core. He had so many expectations piling up on him, too much power and not enough responsibility. He wasn't used to people looking up to him anymore, but now he had a whole dream realm of people and wishes and ambitions to take care of. And, fuck forbid, if he let everyone down--

Kingston's words echoed in his head a thousand times a day. Even on their good days, eating salad and watching TV and walking down the streets together, Pete knew he had a target on his back. He couldn't blame Kingston, though -- he was just doing what he had to, to protect the people of New York.

But that's why he found himself retreating into safe corners whenever he had a minute. And more and more these days, those corners included Ricky.

Ricky didn't expect anything of Pete, and not in the bad way. Ricky just took everything as it happened, rolled with the punches, and didn't complain. Ricky didn't have expectations for anyone or anything -- except, like, safety codes or whatever -- and accepted everyone as they were. And, in the best, worst way, Ricky cared for Pete. Wanted him to do and feel and be better, for himself and for those around him. Ricky sought Pete out when he isolated himself and slowly eased him back out of the dreamworld, with his big dumb smile and those big brown eyes that just didn't have anything to hide.

Pete kissed Ricky when he was drunk and lonely and needing a moment of reprieve. He never thought Mister March himself would kiss a guy, especially with how big of a crush he had on Esther, but the two of them made out for hours. 

Ricky was a breath of fresh air for Pete. He was kind, and gentle, and sweet, and wholly genuine in every way. All the time, to everyone.

With Priya, the whole relationship felt like an aesthetic she was trying to achieve-- stilted words like they were being read off a script, slow sex in the dark, a gorgeous artist with a heart-of-gold bad boy. He wasn't what she wanted, because he wasn't a _character_. He didn't have a heart of gold, he couldn't be fixed, he was broken in all those ugly ways they don't show in the film student movies.

Ricky didn't care about all that. He was nervous sometimes, a huge virgin when it came to guys, and didn't know how any of it worked. He had no greater plan for their relationship, didn't try and fit them into narrative niches and character arcs. They would just sit together, eating cherry tomatoes, talking and laughing for hours. Playing with Ox, going to farmers' markets, dropping by the Occulty Society to talk to Esther and Alejandro. 

It was easy with Ricky. Like breathing underwater.

The others found out by accident. (Well, Kingston had had his suspicions, and Pete knew that, but never said anything about it.) They'd been at Grammarcy, Pete reading up on past Vox Populi to see their historical contribution to New York, and he was sitting in Ricky's lap, because Ricky is big and warm and makes a very good chair. They were in a semi-secluded area of the library, so Pete didn't think anyone would catch them if he snuck a few kisses in every page or so. Besides, he liked how Ricky's big hand splayed over his chest like he was half giant.

He heard a cough behind him, and glanced over to see Kingston standing in front of the rest of the group.

"Oh, Kingston, dude, what's up?" Pete said, crossing one leg over the other casually, as though he was reading innocently and not sitting in the lap of a buff paladin.

"Alejandro wants to talk to all of us. Somethin' about the Door." The tone of Kingston's voice was appropriately disapproving, like a father disciplining his child, but there was a slight smile on his lips and a glimmer in his eye. Pete smiled wide and crooked, knowing he was in the clear.

He sighed and stood up, setting the book aside and smacking Ricky on the chest. "C'mon, big guy."

"How long have you two been--?" Sofie whispered to Ricky, and Pete barely held in a snicker, trading grins with Kingston.


End file.
